by Sybil Smith
He presses back against her stomach and looks up at her—studying her face, cataloging it to memory. If this is going to be the last person to ever hold him like this, he'd like to be able to remember her. She smiles down at him and pulls him closer to her.
"How old are you, Noah?"
He gives a sheepish grin as she says his name and then holds up four skinny fingers. She smiles and takes that same tiny hand in hers. He reaches up with his free one and rubs a wisp of her hair between his fingers before bringing them down to trail down the side of her face.
She lightly laughs and he gets shy, so he pulls his hands back from her to work on another puzzle. She watches him and talks to him even though he never verbally responds. After an hour, her legs are going numb and it's almost time for her to go. She pulls him back into a gentle hug and he looks up, sadness already filling his eyes.
"You is leavin'?"
This is the part she knew she wouldn't be ready for. She takes a calming breath and nods. "Yes. It's time for me to go. I'll…MaybeI'll come back soon, okay?"
He frowns and looks down to his hands lying in his lap. "You is the nicest to play with me in a long time." He reaches up to wrap his arms around the back of her neck and scoots and climbs until he's half standing in her lap and they are pressed cheek to cheek. She smells the shampoo in his hair and her arms instinctively wrap tighter around his back.
He waits a few moments before letting go to look at her. His eyes scan her face—in case it's the last time he'll ever see her—and he gives her a little smile as he puts his tiny hands on her cheeks. "Be back to see me, okay? We can play puzzle again." His lip starts to tremble and his eyes start to water. He's never had anyone to just simply be with him for so long. Now he's scared he never will again. "Don't leave. We can play puzzles."
She knows it's illogical but she swears she feels her heart breaking apart in her chest. This can't be a one-time thing. She can't leave this little boy here alone again. Not when he's looking at her with those big brown eyes and quivering chin.
Some people might think she's looking for a replacement—another child to dull the ache of the loss of her own.
But she isn't.
Tristan can never be replaced. There will always be a part of her that's solely his. She will never forget him and she can never replace him.
But Noah?
He's alive and surviving and in need of love. And even though she's scared—terrified of getting torn apart and broken down again, she has enough love to give him. Deep down, she knows she has enough to give him even when no one else can take the time to give any at all.
He's not hers, but she'll love him in all the ways that she's able. When the day comes that he is cancer free and no longer in the hospital…she'll think about that then. But not today.
Today she's thinking about this little boy with his hands pressed on her cheeks, begging for her to love him. She's not thinking of herself.
She pulls him tight against her once more and lets out a shaky breath as she nods. "I'll be here tomorrow and the next day and the next. We can play whatever you'd like. I'll be back, okay? I'll be back."
….
She cries all the way home. It's almost as if it's a never-ending cycle. She cries, she pretends she's fine, she actually is fine when she's with Vera, something makes her cry, and then it starts all over again. Will it ever end?
When she finally pulls back up to her apartment building, Vera is sitting on the front steps—hair wild, injured leg outstretched, and anxiously biting on the edge of her thumbnail. When she sees Evelyn, she manages to push herself up to stand and then wipes her clammy hands on her pants.
Evelyn walks up to her and they stand in an awkward silence for a moment until Vera manages to clear her throat. "I, uh…I tried to come yesterday but no one would bring me." When Evelyn says nothing, she bashfully looks down and points over her shoulder. "Darren's around the corner if you want me to leave."
Evelyn finally manages to shake her head. "No. You should stay…I'd like for us to talk."
Vera gives a weak smile before trying to hobble up the stairs behind Evelyn. It's definitely not an easy task with stitches holding the gaping hole in her thigh together. Evelyn hears the struggle and climbs back down a step so Vera can lean against her. Vera is strong willed and hates to be weak, so Evelyn says nothing at all about it until they finally manage their way to the couch.
Vera flops down on it in a relaxed sitting position—feet both planted firmly on the floor. Evelyn shakes her head and lifts the injured leg to rest on the coffee table. "Vera, how long were you sitting out there? It's freezing and your leg really should have been elevated."
Vera rolls her eyes and takes the blanket Evelyn hands her. "Not long, alright. Maybe five or ten minutes."
Evelyn raises her eyebrows and Vera sighs. "Okay, maybe forty-five. Fifty minutes, tops."
Only Vera Banks would be foolish enough to survive a stabbing just to chance hypothermia the next day. Evelyn shakes her head and sits close enough to Vera that her body heat will hopefully help Vera warm up faster.
Vera reaches out to take Evelyn's hand before quickly pulling back. She sheepishly looks up at her before back down at the floor. "Sorry. Habit, I guess."
Evelyn ignores the apology and takes Vera's hand—her fingers moving up and down to trace Vera's long ones. She does that for a few moments before she finally gets brave enough to look up at and meet Vera's eyes. She feels the blood draining from her face and she nervously bites her lip. "Are you…are you really in love with me?"
Vera audibly swallows before giving the tiniest of nods. "Yeah. I really am."
Evelyn scans her face for any sign of a lie, but finds none. Vera is a detective, though—trained to give nothing away. Her facial recognition isn't enough for something this important. She takes a deep breath and never takes her gaze from Vera. "You're sure?"
Every morning when Vera wakes up, her first thought is about Evelyn. Throughout the day she wonders what Evelyn's doing, how she's feeling. At night, Evelyn is the last thing on her mind before she falls asleep. When she's not with Evelyn, her chest aches and it's all she can do to focus on anything but Evelyn.
This isn't infatuation. She's been infatuated with people plenty of times. But loved?
She's only ever loved Evelyn Truby. This isn't a fling, it's not a 'I'm bored, let's see what happens' kind of thing. This is it. She can see herself growing old and gray and settling down with Evelyn—a thought that would've scared her less than a year ago.
But this is it for her. The once in a lifetime, big deal kind of thing.
Evelyn Truby is her endgame. Vera couldn't deny that she's in love with her if she tried.
Vera squeezes her hand and her eyebrows knit together. "Evelyn, why would I lie about that?"
"It's happened before." Evelyn drops her gaze to the floor, pure pain oozes through her words. "Someone telling me they loved me to get what they wanted from me. To use me." She slowly looks back at Vera, cheeks burning pink. "I just need to be sure that's not what this is. I'm not…I'm not very good at social interaction, so I need you to tell me the truth. You're not…you really love me? This isn't just a game to you, is it? Because if it is, you can stop playing now. I have nothing left for you to take."
Vera feels her heart break and her anger grow at the same time. How could anyone, anyone use Evelyn like that? She's kind and caring and giving beyond compare. She's been battered and broken and someone willing tore her down even more?
Unacceptable.
"Evelyn," she reaches up and runs her thumb across a pale cheek. "The only thing I want to take from you is your pain. You shouldn't have to deal with all of it by yourself. And…and I want your love. I want you to not be scared to love me like I love you."
She clutches Evelyn's hand with both of her own and presses it to her chest, her voice dropping to a low, gravely whisper. "This isn't a game to me. This is real. And, yeah, sometimes I might let you down and accidentally
hurt you. But it'll only hurt because it matters. Because I matter to you and you matter to me. Don't push me away because you're afraid of losing me. Because then…then you'll have lost me anyway."
She brushes some of the hair away from Evelyn's face and then presses their foreheads together. Her hand travels back up to Evelyn's cheek and her eyes close as she feels Evelyn's damp breath on her face. "I don't want to lose you, Evelyn. Don't push me away. I can't lose you. I can't."
Evelyn lets Vera have her moment before pulling back and standing up. Vera looks at her with a face full of confusion until Evelyn finally extends her hand to help her off the couch. "Let's go lie down. You can prop your leg up more easily that way."
They both know she only told half of what she was thinking. Yes, the bed is better than a tiny, uncomfortable couch and a coffee table.
But it's also a better place for Evelyn to curl up in all that's Vera and pretend like nothing could ever happen to them, nothing will ever pull them apart—if only for a few hours.
She helps Vera out of her coat and into the bed before propping her leg up on some pillows. Evelyn's too emotionally and physically tired from the events of the past two days to worry about changing into something that matches. She strips down to her underwear before throwing on an old shirt Vera had left there a few weeks ago—letting the smell and feel envelop her.
She climbs into bed on Vera's uninjured side and lays her head on her chest. The lull of Vera's heartbeat is enough to lull her asleep, but Vera's arms wrapping tightly around her relaxes her to a point she hasn't reached in years.
Relaxed and calm and carefree for once in what seems like forever, she doesn't stop the "I love you" from rolling off her tongue as she falls asleep.
Vera smiles and pulls her tighter against her. They might not be fine tomorrow or even later that day, but they were at that very moment and that was enough for her.
Chapter 16
The next morning, Evelyn manages to leave without waking Vera. She promised Noah she would visit him and she never breaks her promises—even though she knows she might be getting in over her head. She can already feel herself getting attached.
Not because he's like Tristan, because he isn't. She's getting attached because he's so much like she was as a child. Quiet, inquisitive…alone.
She knows what it's like to be in his shoes—to wish someone, anyone would take notice of you for just a moment. She would've given anything for that, but her parents never paid her an ounce of attention. She grew up with the pain and emotional scarring of benign neglect, she knows what it feels like.
She doesn't want Noah to go through that. If she can save him from feeling ignored and unloved for a few months or even only a few weeks, she's going to do that for him. She'll take the brunt of the pain after he's gone if it means she can spare him from it for just a little while. She's not going to be the one that lets him down. She'll be left worse for wear after he leaves the hospital and she never sees him again, but she isn't going to let him down.
Stepping into the playroom, she sees him sitting at a table with other children that are finger painting. She almost laughs as she notices that he's the only one using a paintbrush. Even more like herself than she thought.
She walks over and sits next to him at the table and warily looks at her. She smiles and reaches out to touch his hair but he instantly dodges her hand and looks back down at the paper without so much as a grin.
It feels like she's breaking inside all over again. She manages to take a deep breath to calm herself. This behavior is completely normal for someone who's been neglected. He's pushing her away du his own fear of getting attached and she doesn't blame him. Not at all.
Because she knows loss and what it's like to get attached and then suddenly have someone ripped away from you. It's horrific and painful and scary. It makes you never want to become attached to anyone again.
But then there always comes that moment when it hits you. It hits you and you realize that not everyone is going to leave you. Life isn't so scary anymore; it isn't so dark anymore.
It's hit her twice. The first time was with Vera. She knows Vera could get injured on the job and taken from her, but she'll never willing leave. She's made that much clear. The second time it hit her was the very moment Noah crawled into her lap and looked up at her with a small smile playing on his lips.
One day, he'll will realize that not everyone is going leave him either. She just hopes she can help him get there.
She sets her purse down on the floor and grabs a sheet of paper. He watches out of the corner of his eye as she pulls out a paintbrush and starts painting with a pale yellow. He watches as she paints lines and circles and changes the colors. It doesn't take long until she's done and holds it up towards him.
He slowly looks over at it and he barely starts to grin. She smiles and points at it. "Have you ever been to the park?"
He frowns and shakes his head. She'll have to remember that. She puts the paper back down and draws a little stick boy and then holds it back up with a smile. "Now you have."
He reaches out to take it but looks up at her first to see if it's okay. She nods and he pulls it into his grasp. His fingers lightly dance over the little stick figure and he fully smiles as he looks back up to her. "That's me?"
"Yes, that's you," she says with a smile that matches his own.
He looks back at it for a moment before frowning and sitting it on the table. He pulls out a paintbrush and crudely draws a stick person next to him that's holding his hand. He holds it back up and laughs. "And there is you!"
She can't explain it, but it feels like her chest feels immeasurably lighter than before. Even if it's only for a little while, she doesn't mind. It just feels so utterly right to be sitting here and talking to him. He reaches out with his small hand and clasps two of her fingers and then tilts his head. "What's your name?"
"Evelyn."
He gives a quick nod and then starts writing their names on the top of the page with a crayon. Instead of Evelyn and Noah, he just loops the crayon around in squiggles. It might not be right, but it still earns him Evelyn's praise.
He looks up at her for approval and she smiles as she applauds him. "You did so well. I'm very proud of you."
That's when it hits him. She can see it in his eyes. Perhaps not the 'not everyone will leave me' that she came to realize, but something still clicks in him. Maybe no one has ever said those things to him before. Maybe he finally realized that she really did come back for a second visit and this just wasn't a dream.
Either way, she's glad he gets it. He clambers up into her lap and she holds him as he paints sunsets and puzzles and his favorite cartoons. He manages to get paint on his face and all over her hands, but she does nothing but laugh. She doesn't care about tidiness and neatness right now. Not when he just looks so utterly happy.
She stays for another hour—just watching him draw and paint and laugh. She's so wrapped up in just being with him that she forgets about everything else. It's truly a welcome feeling. She finally looks up at the clock and realizes that Vera is probably awake by now.
"It's time for me to go now, okay?" She runs her fingers through his hair and he leans back against her, dejectedly.
"Okay."
They sit there in silence for a beat until he squirms his way around and gives her a hug just like he did the day before. He pulls back, hands still lightly resting on the back of her neck. "Thanks for seeing me paint today. Tomorrow?"
"Yes, tomorrow."
He smiles and then reaches back to the table. He pulls out the painting she did with him at the park with their names at the top and holds it out to her. "Take it to remember."
She feels her eyes start to water. She doesn't need a painting to remember—there's no way she's ever going to forget. Even after two visits, Noah has managed to worm his way into her life. But he's looking at her with those big, hopeful eyes and there's no way she can say no.
"Thank you," she says as s
he takes it from him and puts it in her purse.
He gives her one last hug before climbing off her lap and running to the corner to play with the puzzles by himself. She watches him for a few moments before she can finally work up the nerve to leave. Perhaps getting attached was an understatement.
….
She walks in her apartment and Vera is there—granted, in different clothes—making coffee. As soon as she steps in the kitchen, Vera turns to face her with a mock scowl. "Why don't you have any cereal? All I could find was oatmeal. And not even the flavored kind. Just the plain kind that tastes like cardboard and ass."
Evelyn tilts her head and narrows her eyes. "How do you know what—"
"—Don't. It's a figure of speech." Vera finally pours the coffee in a mug and then turns to Evelyn—first noticing the paint on her hands before looking up at her face. "Where have you been?"
Evelyn feels her face start to blush. It isn't that she doesn't trust Vera, she just doesn't want to be judged or condemned for what she's doing. She feels like telling where she was will make Vera think she's broken, crazy even. She doesn't want that. Not after they're finally sorting things out.
She gives a shrug and walks to the sink to wash her hands. "I went to see a friend."
Noah is a friend as far as she's concerned. She watches Vera give an understanding nod—apparently not too concerned with Evelyn's early morning escapades—before walking off to the living room. She goes to pour her own coffee, but gets interrupted when Vera wraps her arms around her waist from behind.
Her heart starts to pound in her chest and her eyes go wide as she sees the thin, flat red box that Vera is holding up to her. She turns her face to look at Vera's. "What is it?"
Vera laughs and sets it on the counter in front of them. "Early Christmas gift. We have a long weekend coming up and I figured now would be a good time to give this to you."
Evelyn looks downs and plays with the red paper on the edges of the box.
